Wednesday, April 9, 2014

'H' is for Horror.

Rohit was neither very intelligent nor kind but he was exceptionally good looking. In our society where boys are a premium, my mother took one look at him and declared he would be her son-in-law. My opinion was neither sought nor expected and I found myself saddled with a husband at the age of 17. By 19, my daughter, Neha was born. Of course I was blamed for conceiving a girl and thereafter I conceived seven times and underwent seven abortions till my body gave up and I had to undergo an hysterectomy. Rohit still insisted on having a son and used a surrogate woman. I cannot say I was unhappy when the child was stillborn.
I often thought of leaving home and running away but where could I go with a young daughter? Rohit always assured me he would never leave me, that he would ensure I could not escape him. Three years ago Rohit was in a car accident and went into a coma. Neha is now in college, I have ensured that she will get an education and have created a fund to meet all her expenses for the next eight years of her life. I will not let her be married off as a trophy wife. I can only hope she understands.
Two days ago I brought my husband home from the hospital. Last night he died. Although the doctor expressed surprise at the sudden deterioration no one really checked for bruises near at the throat. Or commented that the eyes had flown open.
It is now 10 pm and I have returned home after the cremation, the smell of flesh burning is so difficult to get rid of. I have sent off my cousins who wanted to stay the night with me and I have Rohit's pistol with me. The same one he used to threaten me with when I refused to have sex with him. I will now walk into my bedroom and I know I will find Rohit there, rotting flesh falling off burnt bones.
I have to put an end to this.

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